Seduction, Miranda Style
by jazwriter
Summary: Miranda is romancing Andrea, but doesn't realize it. Andy is too wrapped up in her body's uncooperative responses to notice. Paris Fashion Week arrives, and chaos ensues. Reposted into parts.
1. Prologue

**Seduction, Miranda Style**

Author: JAZWriter/JAZWriter13

Pairing: Miranda/Andy from **The Devil Wears Prada**

Rating: Eventually for mature audiences. Earlier parts have adult themes but no real intimacy.

Summary: Miranda is romancing Andrea, but doesn't realize it. Andy is too wrapped up in her body's uncooperative responses to notice. Paris Fashion Week arrives, and chaos ensues.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, which is a true pity. Nor am I trying to obtain any monetary gain through this story. Don't make me waste my time litigating such a silly case. No, no. That was not a question. Don't bore me with details…

**Special Thanks: **to**law_nerd** for beta-ing this story. She really does put up with a lot. Also, thanks to **Glo** for pinch-hitting. I received a warm glow from your words—LOL…seriously, your feedback did wonders for my confidence.

**Author Notes 1:**** I incorporated an idea ****iamfree2**** presented on the LiveJournal board where Miranda falls. It becomes the impetus for Miranda's behavior change toward Andy. So, thanks!**

**Author Notes 2:**** This story consists of a Prologue, Seven Parts, and an Epilogue. If you like it, FEED THE MUSE! **

**Prologue**

Miranda sprinted across the Parisian street to the fountain next to the Place de la Concorde and fell onto her knees beside Andrea. The girl was unconscious. Miranda had never run so fast in her life. Nor had she ever felt so frantic. The editor ignored the forming crowd, the paparazzi, everyone except Andrea.

Andrea, who had just walked away from her and thrown her cell phone into the fountain when Miranda had called her. Andrea, who had not understood why Miranda had had to take away Nigel's dream after arranging for him to obtain it. Andrea, who had chosen friendship and personal ties over ambition and making the hard choices. Of course, Andrea had made one hard choice. She had turned her back on _Runway_. On Miranda.

It didn't seem to matter right now.

She moved shaking fingers to Andrea's neck, checking for a pulse. Miranda felt relief course through her as she felt the rhythm beat steadily. Hearing a siren, Miranda looked up to watch people approaching. They looked like EMT's. They asked her questions she could not answer. She insisted on accompanying them as they drove to the nearest hospital. She took no notice of the cameras flashing or the reporters yelling out to her. She could only see a broken body lying before her.

_Andrea._


	2. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

Miranda was acting oddly. Weird even. Oh, sure, she always did the palpable eye sweep whenever Andy entered a room. Andy felt the usual flood of warmth but shook it off as par for the course. This was Miranda Priestly she was dealing with. The woman oozed power. She evoked strong emotion. Was it any wonder Andy got weak in the knees when she was on the receiving end of even a few moments' worth of attention? So, yes, she anticipated the inspections and lived for the barely noticeable nods of approval she'd been receiving more and more often. Those were wonderful moments, if only because Miranda's eyes would burn into Andy's own widened ones, and the assistant would swear she could see a softening, ever so fleeting, in that look.

Lately, though, Miranda had been acting even more strangely. For one thing, she had started suggesting what Andy could wear to certain work events.

If suggesting meant providing.

It wasn't done in a condescending, patronizing way, either. Instead, Miranda would call Andy in, stare at her over the top of her glasses, and drawl in that quiet way she had perfected something like, "Andrea, have you given any thought to what you shall be wearing to the Met benefit this Friday?"

Of course, Andy had not given any thought to it because, for Christ's sake, it was Monday and there was so much to cram in between those two points of time. She had planned on asking Nigel for help, knowing he would find her the perfect little dress after mocking her sufficiently for her lack of fashion sense.

So she had to answer Miranda, "I haven't settled on an outfit, yet," and wait for the verbal lashing she was sure to receive. It never came.

Instead, while studying various fabric swatches on her desk, Miranda had said, "We just received several Valentino gowns. That red one shouldn't look too horrendous on you." She had waved a hand negligently toward the rack parked in the corner of her office.

Feeling rather confused if not downright bewildered, Andy had viewed the gown, speechless. It was beautiful. Not at all what she would have envisioned for herself. It was certainly bold—strapless with a bow that landed above the left hip and folds that swept upward. As Andy had gawked, not at all sure how to thank her boss she had heard, "Take the shoes, too." Andy had looked down to find strappy high heels of gold and that same red. Louboutins. Wow.

Turning around slowly, Andy had noticed the raised eyebrow a moment before she'd heard, "That's all."

Thus began Miranda's inexplicable actions. Not that the fashion editor ever explained her actions. Ever.

Whenever a large event loomed on the horizon, Miranda would call Andy in and negligently present the perplexed assistant with a new outfit. Andy couldn't figure out why Miranda was providing her with such gorgeous ensembles. Nor was she ever given the chance to inquire. They had a tacit agreement not to discuss this development.

Well, Andy knew not to question, and Miranda never explained. Same thing.

Not that it changed their relationship in any other way. Miranda was as demanding as ever. Andy still ran around like a chicken with her head cut off. Most of the time Andy was able to do everything perfectly, as expected. Sometimes she fucked up royally. And, boy, did she hear about it. Emily liked to gloat in her smarmy way. Miranda would look down her nose as she bemoaned the fact that she was surrounded by incompetent fools. Those were horrible days. Andy tried to avoid them. She worked hard to please Miranda, knowing she would never hear a positive word for her efforts. Of course not receiving insults was its own reward.

As much as she tried, Andy could not pin down the event that had precipitated this strange reality. Until one day several months later when, as she hurried down Madison Avenue, she watched a young lady wipe out spectacularly—legs in the air like a V, arms askew, mouth formed in an O—it was a sight to see. When Andy saw an older gentleman stop to offer a helping hand, it sparked a memory of a time when a similar event had occurred. Yet, it had been extremely different, too.

Another woman had slipped and fallen. However, she was much more graceful as her foot slid across the marble and she sank, like a swan, onto her becoming bottom. Regal in bearing even prostrate across the Elias-Clarke floor, she rested elegantly as Emily and several terrified clackers delicately stepped over the reigning Snow Queen.

Perhaps they were afraid to acknowledge that the editor-in-chief had fallen. Perhaps they feared Miranda would blame them for the unfortunate occurrence. Perhaps they were terrified by the thought of speaking with, never mind touching, the Dragon Lady.

Andy, though, could not pretend her boss was not lying stunned on the cold floor. She rushed over, placing the coffee tray aside, and knelt beside Miranda. She wondered distractedly whether Miranda would ream her for not having the scalding coffee on her desk awaiting her arrival. Maybe she'd overlook it this one time.

Looking into cloudy eyes, the younger woman exclaimed, "Miranda, my God! Are you okay? I'm trained in first aid. Where does it hurt?" as she began a visual scan for injuries. Andy nervously thought of the next steps to aid her boss. She was about to yell, "Call 9-1-1," when Miranda's answer caught her attention.

"I am fine," Miranda answered as she struggled to rise. Without thinking, Andy placed one hand on Miranda's lower back and her other hand on the editor's upper arm, helping her sit up. Andy felt the editor's bicep flex under her touch. Its strength startled Andy. She gamely ignored her desire to squeeze the arm experimentally and refocused on Miranda.

"Whoa. Let's make sure you're okay before you get up." Andy pretended to not hear the resulting huff. She didn't see any blood, scrapes, or bruises. "Does anything hurt?" Andy gently ran her fingers through Miranda's hair searching for bumps. Strangely, Miranda did not pull away.

Andy idly wondered whether she'd ever get the chance to shout into a busy area, "Call 9-1-1." It didn't look like she'd get to do so today. Andy sighed, disappointed. She'd spent eight hours taking that class on her only day off.

"I said I'm fine, Andrea. Let me up." Miranda braced herself on her hands, then pushed her body off the floor. Andy rose with her.

"But, what about your head? Didn't you smack it?" Andy asked with obvious concern. The younger woman remembered when Miranda had uttered similar words with no concern whatsoever for her recently. Of course, Andy hadn't fallen down. She'd just been confused with Miranda's demand that she produce the unpublished Harry Potter manuscript as punishment for walking in on a fight between the editor and her husband. Andy wondered whether Miranda remembered, too.

Miranda took a deep breath and opened her mouth, a thunderous expression giving Andy warning that the next few words would be rather unpleasant.

_Guess so_.

As Andy watched, Miranda hesitated. Instead of blasting Andy, the fashion maven looked around and watched the crowd of people rushing through the building. Turning back to Andy, she stared at her with an inscrutable expression for long moments. "Let's go."

And that was that.

Hurrying back to the office with her burdens, Andy wondered whether that fall had instigated Miranda's generous donations to Andy's wardrobe. Improbable. More likely, the fashion icon had had enough of Andy's poor taste in apparel and had chosen to no longer be embarrassed by Andy at work-related events.

As Andy entered the Elias-Clarke building she felt the dull throbbing between her shoulder blades and a sharper pain lodging in her sternum. That reminded her that she needed to buy more antacids. She'd been experiencing indigestion lately. Andy attributed it to stress. Maybe she had an ulcer. Or three.

Considering how her body had been rebelling after eating lately, it was entirely possible. Andy had resorted to skipping meals just so she would not have to deal with a hard stomach and mortifying gas. Even Emily had noticed her skipped meals, taking the opportunity to inform Andy that her diet was not working. Maybe it was time to conduct some research on ulcers. Lily claimed she had to keep something in her stomach at all times to prevent stomach acid from hurting her. Andy didn't believe it, however, since the more often she ate, the worse her body reacted. She needed to figure it out soon so she wouldn't starve.

Entering _Runway_ Andy hurried to her desk. On it sat a divine bouquet of sunflowers. She looked up with a question in her eyes as Miranda approached. Miranda looked away as she offered, "They remind me of your sickeningly sprightly smile, and I didn't want them."

_Oh._ Still, they were pretty.

Before Andy could offer thanks for the cast-off flowers, Miranda started spouting off a series of directives.

Each week an upbeat bouquet found its way onto Andy's desk brightening her day. Each time Andy was unable to prevent the broad smile that covered her face as she sought out Miranda's gaze through the open door. Each meeting of eyes caused an electrical charge to race through her veins and her heart to pound before the editor would break their contact with a brief nod.

Working for Miranda did have its perks.

At her desk revising Miranda's schedule for the umpteenth time, Andy squirmed. The ache in her upper back had gotten progressively worse over the last few weeks. So had her stomach pains. This morning she'd made a shake of milk, bananas, and honey to soothe her belly. It didn't seem to be working. She'd even foregone coffee, drinking mint tea as a substitute. Finishing the revision, Andy jumped up and ran to the restroom. Just in time. When she returned Emily had a shit-eating grin as she said, "She wants you."

Andy entered Miranda's office quickly, pen and pad in hand.

"Andrea, you are to remain at your desk unless you are running an errand for me or dying." Miranda glared at her. "That's all."

Not wanting to attract any more of her boss's ire, Andy scurried back to her desk. It really wasn't fair. It seemed Andy's body was breaking down. Any food ingested caused her body to rebel. Lately she had been eating healthier, too. She'd given up red meat, fried foods, ice cream—all the foods she loved the most. Along with the shakes, Andy ate a strict diet of lean chicken, fruits, vegetables, low-fat dairy, and wheat bread. All pretty healthy. Nate took it as an insult that she would no longer eat his various concoctions. He didn't want to understand.

Her body needed to get clued into the fact that she didn't have time for such bad behavior.

Six months after Miranda had begun gifting Andy with breathtaking ensembles and uplifting bouquets, Andy's body began to shut down in earnest. The younger woman was exhausted. Nate blamed Miranda's demanding nature as the cause, but Andy knew that couldn't be the culprit. It was true that Miranda's stares had intensified, but Andy welcomed those timeless moments when their eyes connected. In addition, Miranda had taken only to directing Andy to complete tasks that were attainable. No impossible requests. No time-consuming, needless errands. So, in many ways, Andy was less stressed than in the past. True, she was often nervous around the white-haired woman, but that was normal, wasn't it?

Nowadays, however, Andy's body reacted negatively to any food she ate. Back pains, chest pains, stomach pains, indigestion, chills, fever, and lately vomiting became the assistant's reality. During her nocturnal episodes, she would wake up in such pain she could not remain in bed. Her muscles tightened to such an extent it hurt to have anything touching them. Andy would get up, much to Nate's displeasure, and pace for hours. Then the vomiting would begin. Even after ejecting all the food she had eaten, she would continue to endure her body's heaving motions. Often her ribs and throat would ache from regurgitating so forcefully. Next came the heartburn. It was a miserable existence. Although he never said it, Andy couldn't help thinking Nate didn't care, that he might even believe she deserved to be in such pain constantly.

Andy had hoped to at least find that she had lost weight. She had not. So, she ate hardly anything, vomited that small amount, and did not lose a pound. If anything, she constantly felt bloated. It didn't make sense. She was eating healthier food than she had her entire life, when she dared to eat anything at all.

Except when she shared a meal with Miranda. That wasn't often, though. Well , if once a week wasn't considered often. Always without warning or prior invitation. Their first shared meal occurred a couple of months ago.

Miranda had sent Andy on the usual errands, ordering her to bring the photo shoot prints directly to her. Miranda had been meeting Lagerfeld for drinks at the Ritz. Andy knew that her boss had meetings outside the office for the rest of the day.

When she arrived, Andy found Miranda at a table tucked at the back of the restaurant. Alone. Andy hurried over, hoping she hadn't made Miranda wait.

"Andrea, there you are. Sit." Miranda began to review the prints as a waiter arrived bearing salads. He placed a plate before each person and fled.

"Try the salad. The dressing is fabulous," Miranda said, not looking up.

She was right—the salad tasted wonderful. Andy inhaled the food. She had been missing meals, trying to appease her traitorous body's proclivity to rebel at the most inopportune times. Andy knew it would take several hours for the symptoms to begin. It would be worth it, though. She felt fortunate to spend time with Miranda even though the editor ignored her completely.

Soon after they finished their salads the waiter delivered the main courses. Andy stared at her chicken marsala—her favorite dish. Stealing a glance at her boss, Andy jolted as their eyes met. Miranda raised an eyebrow and said, "Eat, Andrea. We don't have all day."

So she ate. It was delicious. They did not speak.

After each impromptu meal, Andy would spend the evening retching. Thankfully, Andy was usually alone in the office waiting for the Book or at home. She figured the food was simply too rich for her uncultured stomach. After all, they dined at some of the best restaurants in the city. Miranda always ordered the food. They never spoke about anything other than work. They never discussed the lunches themselves.

Regardless of how her body felt after such meals, Andy would never contemplate refusing them, if only because being able to sit at the same table with Miranda was enough for her. And well-worth the resulting illness.

The events leading up to Paris Fashion Week still caused Andy to cringe. She knew Emily was furious with her. It didn't matter that she wasn't able to go since she was hit by a cab. It didn't matter that if in Andy's position Emily would have accepted the offer to go without a second thought. It didn't matter that Andy hadn't been given a choice—not really. No one understood. Not Emily. Not Nate. Not her friends.

Andy sat next to Miranda on the flight to Paris feeling rather unsettled. Nate had broken up with her. Her friends had sided with him. Even her parents had voiced their displeasure over the break-up.

All claimed she had changed. Of course she had. How could she not? Not all the changes were bad, though. She had learned that she could do the impossible when she put her mind to it. Yet, it bothered her that those closest to her didn't understand. Didn't want to understand. They had all left her.

Even with all of these losses, Andy was still excited to be on this trip. She had worked hard to get to this point. More than that, though, she reveled in the knowledge that Miranda trusted her, needed her, preferred her. Just sitting next to the editor filled her with joy. It reminded her of their shared meals—companionable, comfortable, and surprisingly intimate. Particularly since everyone made sure to not sit anywhere near Miranda on the plane. Even Nigel had abandoned them.

Andy attempted to subtly crane her neck. Miranda had the window seat. For the first time, Miranda seemed to be relaxed with eyes closed. Andy studied her boss closely. _She's gorgeous_. Andy didn't know why this truth had never occurred to her before. Perhaps because she'd never seen the woman so still. Andy felt a thrill run through her as she watched Miranda sleep. Painted lashes contrasted sharply against ivory skin.

It amused Andy how Miranda had complained about everyone wasting time by sleeping on the plane, and yet here was the indefatigable woman napping. Looking around, Andy noted that everyone had, indeed, opted to sleep. No doubt they were saving their strength since their time in Paris promised to be frenetic. If Andy had any good sense left, she'd also attempt sleep.

She was simply too excited, though. She needed to see everything. For instance, although Andy certainly didn't want to invade Miranda's space, she was dying to see what was outside. This was the perfect opportunity. If she could just lean forward a little more…

Hearing a soft gasp, Andy swung her head toward Miranda. _Shit_. Her cheek had been directly in front of Miranda's mouth. In fact, Andy imagined she could feel the remnants of that soft exhalation on her cheek. However, that feeling was cancelled out by the friction of their lips brushing as she swiveled her head. Andy reared back.

Mortified, if not afraid for her life, Andy began to babble. "Sorry! Sorry, Mir—" Andy stopped immediately when a hand hauled her forward, and lips crushed hers. Shocked and thoroughly aroused, Andy responded as if this were the last kiss she would ever experience. _Which might become true once Miranda realizes who she's kissing_, Andy imagined.

Andy couldn't be bothered with thoughts of her imminent death at this moment, though. No, she felt it imperative to commit to memory (in case she did get to live) the texture of Miranda's lips as they meshed with hers. Had a kiss every felt so sensual? How could she feel so complete yet yearn for so much more? Feeling an inquisitive tongue sliding against her lower lip, Andy moaned softly and opened her mouth.

_Oh my God. _She tasted divine. Coffee, mint, and something uniquely Miranda tickled her taste buds. Andy realized quite suddenly that she had wanted this kiss for a very long time.

An elegant hand wound its way through Andy's chocolate tresses and pulled her impossibly closer as their tongues moved gently against each other. Andy couldn't get enough. Miranda was addictive. Andy couldn't help but compare these motions with two bodies, their bodies, gliding against each other. How glorious that would feel. The younger woman began to tremble when she felt Miranda's low growl in response to her fingers sliding through the snowy locks. The editor's tongue strokes became more forceful, more focused. Andy whimpered, needing more. She tried to express just how much she wanted the older woman through her mouth's motions.

Certainly, it was the most exquisite kiss she had ever shared.

Eventually, Miranda gently pushed Andy back but kept her close with a hand entangled in her hair. Breathless, Miranda's eyes blazed desire, thrilling Andy.

"Andrea," she whispered. Her fingers ran through Andy's hair before settling at her nape. For long moments Andy stared into Miranda's eyes, entranced by the emotions she saw. Longing, hunger, and affection dominated. She had never witnessed Miranda with the barriers down. It was captivating.

"Andrea," Miranda began again, this time with a more modulated tone. Andy felt crestfallen. This was when Miranda would reveal that the kiss was an unfortunate mistake and how her death, while inconvenient, would now be necessary. Or something like that. Miranda must have seen something in her reaction, for the editor moved her hand to cup a cheek, a tender expression stealing over her features.

"No, Andrea. No." A wistful look stole over the fashion icon's face. Sighing, Miranda dropped her hand and stared out the window for long moments.

Andy felt bereft with the loss of her touch. Slouching into her seat, Andy was unable to fathom what had occurred. Why did the older woman kiss her? How was it possible that Andy had wanted it so badly but hadn't realized it until their lips met?

A hand grasping hers brought Andy's attention back to her editor. Ice blue eyes held Andy captive as the younger woman felt her hand squeezed. A thumb rubbed the back of her hand soothingly as Andy searched for reassurance. "Miranda?" Andy questioned hesitantly.

"I am not prepared to discuss this, not during fashion week. However, once we return perhaps we can revisit," here Miranda's gazed slipped to Andy's lips before returning to the younger woman's eyes, "certain events." Miranda quirked an eyebrow.

Andy nodded, overwhelmed. "I'd like that," she breathed. "To revisit certain events, in particular." Now Andy had a hard time not staring at the editor's seductive lips. She saw them curl into a genuine grin. Andy couldn't help but light up with her own smile in response.

The smile dropped from Miranda's face as seriousness cloaked her. "I care about you, Andrea. Never doubt that." Miranda squeezed Andy's hand once more before releasing it and turning away.

Andy sat quietly with her questions, buoyed by the promise in Miranda's voice. She had no idea how they had gotten to this point, no idea what to make of the kiss, no idea what the future held for them. However, she did know one thing: that kiss told its own story. It reassured her more than any words could right now.

She couldn't wait to get back to New York.


	3. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Miranda sat in the still room trying not to think about why she was reclining in an uncomfortable plastic chair alone. She shifted futilely. It seemed that somehow her life had careened out of control. Her husband had filed for divorce. She'd fallen in love without realizing it. She'd stepped on one of her closest friend's dreams to keep her job, driving away her newly acknowledged love in the process. And then there was the reason why she found herself fighting tears in a Parisian hospital room—after her love had walked away from her, she'd watched the younger woman crumble to the ground and nearly die before her eyes. Funny how three of those events occurred while she was so focused on the fourth.

Pushing a stray lock back from her eye, Miranda wondered, not for the first time, whether sacrificing her personal relationships for her career had been a mistake. What she had accomplished in her professional life no one could surpass. She had revolutionized the fashion industry one page at a time. It had taken her many years to build her reputation, to advance her career. Once she had reached the top she'd promised herself that she would never willingly relinquish the helm—not until she was ready. She fed her soul on the accolades she received through _Runway;_ the adoration was an undeniable drug. But kissing Andrea, feeling her respond so passionately, was a window on a reality more compelling than any drugs. Miranda realized that the moment they had kissed was also the instant she had finally understood the compulsion to have a personal life and to include in it a special person.

Although her personal and professional lives often intersected—how could they not when Miranda spent most of her time working—the editor had designated clear dividers within her mind. The most prominent separation she had devised was not allowing her personal relationships to detract from her professional ambitions. That was the rule she had created long before her first marriage.

So imagine her surprise when she had found herself watching her subordinate with a very personal agenda in mind. Miranda had tried to fight her feelings. She had treated the girl as harshly and with as much contempt as she had for any other assistant. However, Andrea hadn't quit, and Miranda could not fire her. Instead, she began to question her all-important rule.

Then came the day when Miranda had slipped while striding across the Elias-Clarke floor. It was in many ways a wakeup call. Although she would never admit it, she had smacked her head. Not that she actually remembered doing so. Not that she had actually suffered a bump or even a slight headache from the fall. However, she must have hit her head because once Andrea had appeared beside her, intent on caring for her, she had felt dizzy and breathless.

She couldn't help but notice the girl after that.

Nor could she fight the compulsion to give her things, beautiful things. Because the girl, Miranda realized quite suddenly, was beautiful.

She hadn't meant to capitulate to her desire to make the girl smile. After all, spending any time thinking about her assistant was absurd. Yet, no matter how many times she dragged her mind away from those sparkling eyes and curvy figure (and, oh what a wonderful surprise to find the girl had curves hidden beneath those bulky sweaters), Miranda could not stop thinking about her. An assistant. A much younger woman.

One morning when she had awakened with a smile on her lips and Andrea's smile in her mind's eye, she had realized she wanted to cause Andrea to direct that smile toward her. For her. Because of her. And not merely because Andrea believed it to be a part of her job to smile at her boss.

The ensembles she bestowed on Andrea did not have the desired effect. The younger woman seemed too stunned. Too hesitant. Miranda considered ending the gift-giving, but she truly enjoyed watching Andrea move while clothed in such couture. So she continued to indulge her whim of dressing her attractive assistant. Valentino, Chanel, Dior, Donna Karan, Armani, Gucci, Michael Kors, even a vintage Oscar de la Renta—Miranda chose each piece with care. Although the editor could get away with providing the evening dresses and matching shoes without anyone daring to question her, she knew tongues were wagging. Let them.

She loved seeing the woman revealed. During those events the girl disappeared, replaced by a sexy, innocently provocative beauty. Andrea became the dress. Elegant, sensual, and confident, Andrea displayed qualities that drew in the older woman. To that end, Miranda chose to not spook the girl, instead directing her pointed comments and barely controlled barbs toward Emily during such events. Her assistant didn't seem to notice, and Miranda was able to observe Andrea without fear of the gorgeous creature disappearing through Miranda's necessarily harsh business persona.

Still in pursuit of the elusive ebullient smile, Miranda began to leave bouquets. She ordered them herself each week, choosing floral arrangements that bespoke cheerfulness and vibrancy. That was when she began to receive those charming smiles. For a few timeless moments each week, Andrea focused exclusively on her, a thank you transmitted through her eyes for something Miranda had done.

It made her want to spend more time with the girl. To make her smile for other reasons.

Such desires nearly overwhelmed her one afternoon while waiting for Andrea to bring her some photo shoot prints. Miranda loathed the thought of letting the girl leave her side too quickly. That directed her actions to order lunch for them both. Having Andrea sit with her calmed her in a way she seldom felt. So she began to orchestrate more shared meals, more time they were able to spend together. Miranda used the information accumulated over several months of listening to Andrea's ceaseless chatter while in her office. It seemed she knew many of the girl's culinary tastes. Miranda became amused over the younger woman's amazement each time one of her favorite dishes appeared before her. As with the clothes and flowers, Miranda chose not to explain her actions.

The truth was that Andrea was a breath of fresh air, and Miranda wanted to inhale her essence.

The fashion editor hadn't meant to kiss Andrea. At least not yet. She had been working up a type of trust with Andrea, helping the younger woman feel more comfortable while in her presence. As for the sticky situation with her marriage—she had been seriously considering asking for a divorce. It had seemed absurd, though. It wasn't as if she had any guarantee that Andrea returned her affections. The prudent course was to wait, allow Andrea in more and more, and see what developed before taking any action. However, when she had felt Andrea's body so close to hers, burning into her, she could not resist. So she'd kissed the alluring woman.

Was it so horrible that Miranda had wanted to remove the threat to her livelihood before she turned her focus completely on Andrea, on what her young assistant made her feel? Miranda sighed. The problem was her logical, calculated plan to build a strong foundation had disintegrated without the editor being quite ready. Was anyone ever ready for love? It made her look at her life differently. And when she truly looked, she had to acknowledge that her marriage was over, had been over for awhile. Nevertheless, she could not deny that receiving the divorce papers had still hurt. She never took the evidence of her failures well. Her feelings for Andrea were so unique, so deep, that Miranda felt herself sliding into an undeniable avalanche of emotion.

She should have resisted. She should have chastised Andrea for the accidental brushing of lips that had led to the intense, life-altering kiss they soon had shared, but she just couldn't control herself. She'd had to give into her feelings.

How satisfying to feel Andrea's lips responding to her. How exhilarating.

The timing had been wrong, though. Miranda did not want to use Andrea. She certainly did not want to hurt her. Miranda was not free to express her feelings, yet. If Miranda were to bare her soul, and contrary to the belief of many, she had not sold it, she wanted to make sure it was when they were both ready and able to be together.

The coup Irv had tried to execute had only further complicated matters. The younger woman was so sensitive, so open. Miranda had attempted to explain the _Runway_ politicking, the maneuvering she had implemented to keep her job. She realized too late how inadequate her explanation had been. Andrea had walked away, intent on not returning, sticking to her sense of integrity and perceived need to defend Nigel in the only way she could—by leaving. Miranda doubted Andrea understood just how effective her actions had been in hurting the editor.

Miranda had had every intention of following the girl. That was why she had been watching Andrea as she crossed the street, threw her phone into the fountain, and collapsed in agony. Her agony had become Miranda's as terror piled upon despair.

The sound of a rolling gurney stirred Miranda from her thoughts. She watched intently as Andrea was brought into the room. She looked so pale. Miranda turned to the tech for information.

"She should be waking up soon, but she will be disoriented. She can have ice chips. We'll try liquids in a few hours. Solids for dinner. We'll want her to walk around a couple of times today. It will help her remove the gas from her body. She's on a drip for meds, but we'll switch her to pain pills later in the day. We expect her to be discharged tomorrow morning."

At Miranda's nod, she was left with her sleeping beauty. Andrea had suffered from acute cholecystitis. It was so advanced that her gall bladder had become infected. Luckily, no bile duct stones were found to compromise Andrea's body even more. The laparoscopic cholecystectomy removed the diseased gall bladder. Knowing that nowadays this was a common procedure did not lessen the horror of seeing Andrea incapacitated. She always seemed so energetic, so strong, so vivacious. Not now, though. Even knowing that Andrea could be up and around within the week did not mute the horror Miranda had experienced while watching Andrea clutch her ribs and fall to the ground.

She knew Andrea was young and idealistic. Her sense of integrity would guide the younger woman to leave Miranda once again unless the editor took drastic measures. Unless Miranda gave Andrea good reasons to remain by her side. Such integrity served to reinforce some of the main reasons why Miranda had fallen in love with the girl: Andrea stuck to her principles, even when doing so might end up hurting herself in the long run.

Miranda didn't have much time to regain Andrea's trust. It was amazing how long it took to build trust, and how quickly it could be destroyed. However, the editor was determined. She would not live a life without that smile gracing her days. She certainly had no intention of never tasting those lips again. The timing might not be right, but her intentions were. Miranda would convince Andrea that she must remain in the editor's life. That's all.


	4. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

Andy woke up slowly. She felt heavy. Weighed down. The weirdest thoughts were invading her mind. Flashes of events that could not have occurred. Fantastical dreams. Disjointed events. Piercing pain. Strangers surrounding her. Miranda's voice slightly edged with panic.

_Miranda?_

Normally when she dreamed of the editor's voice it was silky and seductive. Unless she was having a nightmare. Then the voice seemed strident and demanding. Of course, that demanding voice sometimes visited her more enjoyable dreams, too. Like that one last week where Miranda had ordered Andy to remove her clothing (including the cerulean blue sweater) and make love to the older woman in every room of the townhouse. Andy felt her body heat up as she remembered just how much she'd enjoyed that oversized chair in the sitting room. Hearing a seat squeak as a person shifted, Andy froze.

The brunette held her breath as she listened to the sounds surrounding her. Dripping fluids, humming monitors, turning pages. Overall, it was refreshingly quiet. And still. How wonderful.

Opening her eyes, Andy turned her head toward her right. Shocked, her brown eyes widened when she saw Miranda sitting in an extremely uncomfortable-looking chair reviewing paperwork. Andy took a few moments to just drink the woman in. She thought she'd never have the opportunity to stare at Miranda again. Yet, here the older woman was sitting next to her bedside. It didn't make sense.

"Miranda?" Andy whispered. Her throat was so dry. Andy watched as Miranda raised her head in surprise, then placed the documents aside. She stared at Andy intensely as a slight smile transformed her regal bearing.

"I wondered when you would awaken. How are you feeling?" Miranda said.

"I don't know. Drugged, for sure. Heavy. Weak. Thirsty," Andy replied as she took stock of her body.

Miranda rose and carried a cup over. It had ice chips in it. "I was told you can have these for now. Liquids in a couple of hours. Solids tonight." She placed the cup on a tray and pushed it toward Andy. "Do you want me to raise your bed?" Miranda continued. At Andy's nod, she manipulated the control panel until the younger woman was propped up. Andy crunched down on some of the ice chips gratefully.

Andy stared at the editor for long moments. "I'm surprised to see you here," Andy finally began. She was intrigued by the whole situation. Although she had walked away, Miranda had remained by her side. Ironic.

"Yes, I am sure you are." Miranda gazed into Andy's eyes as she sat down on the bed. "Andrea. I can understand why you never mentioned your condition, but why didn't you go to the doctor?"

"I thought it was an ulcer. I was planning on calling my doctor after fashion week." Andy didn't think pointing out her lack of time would be well-received.

"This type of disease can take years to develop. Your illness was so advanced it must have been very painful for you. How could you ignore it?" Curiosity warred with concern on the elegant woman's face, hypnotizing Andy.

"I was used to the pain. Nate seemed to think I deserved it—"

"Nate," Miranda spat. "Isn't he your live-in chef?"

"No. Well, he was. We broke up." Andy clarified.

"Hmm," Miranda replied with a thoughtful expression. "He never suggested that you see a doctor?"

"Um, no." Andy began to wonder about that. _Why didn't he?_ Miranda's sigh brought Andy's eyes back to the editor's face. "He might not have realized how much pain I was in," Andy suggested.

Miranda scoffed. "I find that hard to believe. From what I've learned, your symptoms would have been impossible to miss by a person who lived with you." Miranda crossed to the window. "The symptoms must have manifested months ago. It amazes me you were able to function at all." A troubled expression crossed her face as she looked back toward Andy. "Do you realize how close to death you were, Andrea? Two, three more days, and it would have been too late."

Andy gasped. She didn't know how to respond to the words or to the look offered.

Miranda glared. "You nearly died, you silly girl. Where would I be then? I need you to be well." She continued to pin Andy with bright eyes for several moments as the younger woman attempted to catch her breath.

The white-haired woman returned her gaze to the window. Andy wondered what the view was. Of course, it was her curiosity with views through windows that had caused so much upheaval recently. Sleepless nights, burning desire, and endless confusion had plagued her since the plane ride. And that kiss.

"I've been informed that it will take a week for you to recuperate enough to be able to work, but even then you will not be strong enough to run errands. So, it seems I have two incapacitated assistants," Miranda groused in resignation.

"Miranda," Andy began. She was silenced with a look.

"You are entitled to two weeks paid sick leave. Take it, Andrea. Get well."

"But I quit—" Andy tried again.

"Only you and I know that," Miranda interrupted harshly. The editor pushed an errant lock back impatiently. "I am willing to overlook it, this once." Miranda pinned her with a penetrating stare, daring her to continue the conversation. "Think about what I am offering, Andrea. Perhaps reason will reassert itself once the drugs wear off."

Andy nodded as fatigue seemed to crash over her in waves. She felt as if Miranda was trying to tell her something, offering more than the return of her job. Andy was too tired to figure it out, though.

"Your clothes and personal items are in that closet. They include a change of clothes for when you are discharged. Toiletries are in there." Miranda waved her hand lazily toward the bathroom. "Why don't you get some rest."

_No, no, not a question_, Andy thought hazily. She wanted to say so much to Miranda. The younger woman settled with watching the fashion maven through heavy-lidded eyes as she whispered, "A kiss to usher in sweet dreams would be nice."

"My, my. You do have a way with words. Perhaps you should pursue a writing career after all," Miranda murmured. A fierce look crossed the older woman's face. "Is that why you were with Christian? To further your career?" Miranda sneered. "Did you enjoy sweet dreams after he kissed you goodnight, or was it good morning?" Miranda stalked toward Andy as the poison spilled from thin lips.

Andy struggled to understand what Miranda was implying. _Did she just accuse me of sleeping my way to a better job?_ Andy felt the insult pierce her deeply.

"Isn't that why you married Stephen?" _Take that!_ Andy found it hard to believe that Stephen was anywhere good enough for the formidable woman. However, they looked good together, and he played his part well. At least until recently. She watched Miranda's face tighten with displeasure. Panic suffused Andy, sobering her more than a splash of cold water ever could have done. Evidently, the drugs had disabled her internal edit button. _Fuck._

"I will attribute that remark as a consequence of your pain and medication. We will revisit this topic at a later time." Miranda enunciated bitingly.

"Seems we'll be revisiting quite a few topics," Andy muttered.

"Yes." Miranda's eyes glittered sharper than any diamonds could as she leaned over Andy. "However, let me make one topic extremely clear right now. You will never scare me like this again. Nor will you treat your body in such a cavalier fashion. We spoke earlier of the choices we make to get ahead. It seems that lately you have been choosing poorly. That stops now. Do you understand, Andrea?"

Andy stared at her two-headed former and perhaps current boss whose nose practically touched hers and wondered, _What the hell_? Miranda had a haunted look in her eyes coupled with fury. The younger woman gulped, realizing she had caused those emotions. Although she again sensed a double meaning, Andy was quick to whisper, "I understand."

Even though she really didn't. At all. 

"Good. I will return later." Miranda turned away, retrieved her belongings, and strode toward the door, tossing over her shoulder, "Sleep, Andrea."


	5. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

Once safely in her hotel room away from prying eyes Miranda allowed herself a few moments to dwell on her exchange with Andrea. Miranda was disgusted with her loss of control while with her assistant. Ex-assistant. She grimaced.

_What was it about that girl? Why did I bring up Christian Thompson? _

It didn't take a genius to figure it out. She was jealous of the man. He'd had no right to paw Andrea's body. Sure, Miranda had pushed her away the night before, probably just a couple of hours before Andrea had left for dinner with that playboy. Andrea was young, unsophisticated when it came to relationships. Certainly not well-versed in the complexities of a person saying one thing while desiring another. Miranda, her pride smarting from her soon-to-be-ex-husband's actions, had rebuffed Andrea's affections. And sent her straight into the arms of that smarmy, shallow pretty-boy.

The only saving grace was knowing how Andrea had tried so intently to warn her about Irv's plans. She may have had sex with Christian, but she'd left him to find Miranda.

Her feelings for Christian compounded with her abject terror when Andrea's health had been in such flux had resulted in one volatile editor. Miranda blew air out forcefully through her lips.

Miranda took out her copy of the keycard for Andrea's room and left her suite. Once she entered Andrea's hotel room, she crossed to the younger woman's carry-on bag that was currently perched on the bed. Miranda tried not to look at the discarded clothes draped across the chair—the clothes Andrea had worn on her date, the clothes Christian had removed from the girl's supple body. She shook her head and opened the bag.

Miranda replaced a ring of keys to their rightful place and left the room. Miranda had taken the liberty of making copies of the keys and expressing them back to the United States. Miranda's personal housekeeper had been instructed to use the keys to enter Andrea's apartment, clean it, and stock the refrigerator with food. Although a chance existed that Andrea might not welcome these actions, Miranda knew the younger woman would be in no shape to take care of such chores upon their return. Andrea would just have to accept the help.

After a shower and change of clothes, Miranda looked as immaculate as ever. Looks could be deceiving, though. She felt a mess. Fortunately, most would not notice. Nigel might, but since he was currently licking his wounds, he probably would not comment. Once in her car, she watched the shifting roadway aimlessly. How could she build a bridge that would connect Andrea to her?

Miranda knew what she wanted, who she wanted, but not how to convince Andrea to give her a chance. Words would not be enough. They never were. What could she do, then? How could she prove that her business decisions were entirely separate from her personal ones? That what she had done to Nigel was business and did not take away from the affection she held for her long-time colleague? What really galled her was recognizing that Nigel might not even understand the distinction. Mixing professional and personal lives was so messy. Miranda rested her chin on her hand as she leaned against the car door.

Perhaps she should reassure Nigel. Normally she never explained her actions, but it seemed that she was changing in many ways. The editor smiled grimly, decision made. She would explain herself to Nigel. She would present herself to Andrea. And she would taste those luscious lips once more.

As soon as she entered the hall, Miranda sensed the change in the air. Eyes turned toward her as murmurs intensified. She'd missed an entire day of showings, gatherings, and meetings. Miranda had no doubt that people were wondering about her absence. Only a select few were aware why she'd missed every event over the last twenty-four hours. One such person bee-lined it to her side while daring to study her face.

"How is she?" Nigel asked.

"Barely lucid." Miranda looked around with a distracted air. Refocusing on her right-hand man, she continued. "The doctors have assured me that the surgery was successful, and she will be recovered fully within the next few weeks."

Nigel exhaled the breath he'd been holding. At Miranda's raised eyebrow, Nigel grinned. "I was worried. Unexpectedly enough, it seems I care for her."

Miranda nodded. She could sympathize.

"Will she be able to fly out tomorrow with us?" Nigel asked.

"If not I will remain," Miranda pronounced as she looked fully into Nigel's eyes. She saw his shock and nearly smiled. Nearly. Instead she waited to see what he would do next.

He rubbed his neck, seeming to wage an internal war while Miranda continued to hold his gaze. He finally nodded, decision made. "I have the notes for the events you missed," he offered gently. "I'd be glad to cover the rest of them for you."

"Yes." Miranda gripped her clutch tightly. He knew now. He understood Miranda cared for the girl. Deeply.

Although naturally reticent to discuss her personal life, Miranda pushed aside her reservations to reach out to Nigel. "She scared me, Nigel. I don't believe I've ever felt so helpless before." Feeling some of her control slipping, Miranda turned her gaze away. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost her," she added softly.

"I had no idea," Nigel blurted out.

"Until rather recently, nor did I. A rather unsettling reality; I can just imagine the headlines: the Snow Queen thawing." She smirked as Nigel attempted to keep a straight face. Wanting Nigel to understand her next words, Miranda gazed at him meaningfully as she said, "After our return, I'd like to sit down with you, Nigel." She watched surprise and joy skitter across his countenance. At his nod, she looked away. She would redeem herself in Nigel's eyes, in Andrea's eyes. Perhaps even in her own.

"Can I get you anything, Miranda?" Serena stood nearby awaiting orders.

"Champagne." Once Serena scampered away, Miranda turned back to Nigel to receive an update on the past day's events. She focused on the fashion world, knowing she needed to keep a tight rein on her empire, particularly with the scarcely diverted attempt for the throne, her throne. Miranda delivered the appropriate instructions to enable Nigel to continue in her stead while sipping her drink.

"I'll take good care of _Runway_'s interests, Miranda," Nigel assured. "What can I do for you?"

Miranda stared at Nigel for long moments, wondering whether she could trust him with what she wanted to have done.

"You can trust me. I care for both of you. Let me help."

Tilting her head while contemplating his words, Miranda felt indecision gnaw at her. She wanted to believe him, but she had just hurt him yesterday. Would he exploit her in the name of revenge? She'd certainly given him enough ammunition already. After all, she'd just admitted to harboring feelings for Andrea. Looking into his eyes, though, she found that she didn't believe he would.

"Can you pack her belongings and bring them to my suite?" Miranda requested in a low voice.

"Of course. I'll do it tonight after the Vuitton soiree." Nigel looked away, as if knowing how uncomfortable Miranda felt and seeking to reassure her.

He jumped when she placed a hand on his arm.

"Thank you, Nigel. You are a good friend. Much better than I deserve." She felt the corners of her lips rise at his startled look. Patting him, Miranda dropped her hand. "You may visit if you feel it necessary. I'm sure she would like to see you." The editor turned away to hand her empty flute to a passing waiter. "I'm leaving." She had accomplished what she had set out to do. She wanted to get back to the hospital.


	6. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

Andy woke up slowly. She had enjoyed a heavy sleep filled with dreams of white hair and flashing eyes, strong arms and breathless promises. Oh, how she wished her dreams would become reality. Her heart hurt. She didn't know what to believe.

Miranda had displayed a ruthlessness toward Nigel's career aspirations that had scared her. If she could treat one of her oldest and most loyal colleagues in such a heartless fashion, Andy could not expect to earn any type of positive return for all her efforts to please her boss. Nonetheless, Miranda had been treating her differently in the workplace for months.

The ensembles, the bouquets, the meals—if it were anyone besides Miranda, Andy would have thought she was being romanced, but…wait a minute. Maybe Miranda had been romancing her. Maybe Andy was the most obtuse person in the world. Maybe, just as Miranda had stated, she did care for Andy.

She had to know. Could she trust her heart to this enigmatic woman?

Hearing a knock on the door, Andy watched a nurse enter. "I see you are awake. How are you feeling?"

That was a good question. Andy took a moment to check in with her body. She was sore. She had to use the bathroom. She was hungry. In that order. Andy told the nurse as much.

"I'll order some pain medication and a liquid lunch for you. Would you like some sorbet in the meantime?"

"That'd be great," Andy replied as a smile graced her face.

"D'accord. Let me help you to the bathroom, and then I shall get it." With the nurse's help Andy slowly swung her legs over the side. _Ow._ Bending hurt. Andy placed a hand over her stitches and, using the nurse's hand for support, slowly got up. Rolling the IV stand with her left hand, she made her way to the toilet.

"Are you all right to go in, or do you need help?" the nurse asked kindly.

Andy felt mortified by the thought of having someone help her onto the toilet. "No. I'm fine. Thanks." Andy closed the door. She held herself on the railings located on either side of the toilet and lowered herself gingerly. It sucked to feel so weak, to have her body be in such distress. Yet, even though she felt the pain of surgical wounds just beginning to heal and even though her heart pounded just from this small amount of physical exertion, Andy also felt the absence of any constant sharp pain in her upper body. What a relief.

A few minutes later, Andy found herself bracing her hands on the sink for a moment while taking deep breaths. Andy glared at her reflection_. This is ridiculous!_ She was young woman, just twenty-five years old. She shouldn't feel this shitty. She shouldn't feel like a newborn kitten. She shouldn't have nearly died.

Andy lifted shaky hands to splash some cold water on her face. She decided to try to make herself presentable. Miranda said she would return. She didn't care if the sorbet didn't mix well with toothpaste, Andy decided to brush her teeth. It felt as if moss had grown over them. Andy looked at herself critically in the mirror. Her hair was a mess. Maybe she would try to wash it. Later. For now, Andy pulled a brush through the long locks.

Exiting the bathroom at a snail's pace, Andy became disheartened by how lethargic she felt.

"Andrea."

Andy lifted her eyes from focusing on the floor. She gazed at Miranda. The older woman looked worried. The editor walked over to Andy and wound an arm around her waist. Andy sagged into the support. "Thanks," Andy whispered.

Once Andy was delivered back into bed, Miranda pulled the blankets over Andy's legs and tucked them around her waist. The younger woman watched, shocked by the gentleness of the older woman's actions. Andy attempted to slow down her heartbeat. It was a losing battle. The woman was so close that Andy could smell her perfume. It reminded her of the intimacy they'd shared when they'd kissed.

Looking into darkened blue eyes, Andy realized that they'd let the silence build between them into a delicious tension. It hummed as they maintained a tenuous connection created through their locked gazes. Andy swallowed, imagining it to be the loudest sound ever.

_Geez. Is it hot in here?_

Andy's breath caught as she felt strong fingers intertwine with her own and lips graze her cheek. Reveling in the feeling of soft lips, Andy slowly turned her head to capture that mouth. Then she truly breathed.

Ever since she was a small girl, Andy had fantasized about the perfect kiss, that one that would send her to the moon and back during those few moments of wedded lips. As an adult, Andy had released those immature imaginings. Kissing served a variety of purposes: reflecting affection, desire, lust, passion, or even love. However, she had never experienced a kiss that had sent her careening off the planet. Not until last week. Not until Miranda had kissed her.

As it turned out, that one experience and her reaction to it had not been a fluke or some type of overreaction borne of incredulity, lust, or good old-fashioned what-the-fuckedness. Nope. This kiss was even more incredible. It boggled Andy's mind to realize that Miranda's kisses not only sent her to the moon but also to the next galaxy. Whereas last week's kiss had been passionate, deep, and demanding, this one was affectionate, intense, and unhurried. Andy cherished the feeling of closeness that cocooned her.

Slowly the kiss ended, yet their lips remained together, just barely touching. They took synchronized deep breaths as their eyes opened, feeling the exhales against their faces. Still, neither pulled back. Still, their lips touched. Fingers tightened. Eyes burned.

A knock at the door broke the moment. Miranda sat back but did not release Andy's hand. A nurse came in bearing drugs and the promised sorbet. Andy smiled. Miranda grimaced. After Andy swallowed the offered medication, the nurse helpfully placed the treat on a tray and wheeled it into place in front of Andy. As her mouth enveloped the spoon, Andy hummed her pleasure. It was the best treat she'd ever tasted. Ever. It was also the first food she'd had in days.

The nurse left after telling Andy that lunch should be delivered in about a half hour. Miranda watched avidly as Andy voraciously finished the sorbet. Andy looked up to find the editor smiling. "That good?" Miranda asked, amusement plain in her voice.

"Um, hm," Andy mumbled as she licked her lips.

Miranda retrieved some hand sanitizer and offered it to Andy. "Have you strolled the corridors, yet?" the editor asked, a lilt to her voice Andy had never heard before. She liked it.

"No, not yet." Andy wondered whether she was ready to walk around. She knew she'd have to, though, since she wanted to be released tomorrow morning.

"Let's try it. It will do you some good," urged Miranda. She helped Andy from the bed, pausing when Andy groaned. "Andrea?" Miranda said, alarm evident in her tone.

"I'm all right. Just sore," Andy answered as she straightened out her stance. She felt Miranda slide an arm around her waist as she had done earlier.

Andy felt pretty damn comfortable in Miranda's embrace. Glancing at her companion, she noted the concern fade and a satisfied glint take its place in shining eyes. Andy grinned.

"Okay," Andy said and began to shuffle forward while pushing the IV stand. Andy had hoped to have the IV taken out, but the doctor wanted her to receive fluids to boost her immune system. Unfortunately, it made her pee on the hour. Oh, well; it couldn't be helped.

Circling the floor took a long time. Although Andy felt exhaustion dogging her steps, she chose to keep moving. Miranda talked about the newest designers, the next issue, even the latest gossip regarding the movers and shakers in the fashion world. Andy was extremely grateful. When they reached the room, Andy was more than ready to crawl back into the bed.

Just after she got settled her lunch arrived. Andy's eye lit up. Miranda chuckled.

"I've never seen a person enjoy food as much as you do," Miranda commented.

"That's why this disease was such torture. I couldn't enjoy my favorite foods. Or any foods, really. It was horrible." Andy sipped the chicken broth, relishing every bit.

"Well, then. We'll just have to replace those experiences with better ones," Miranda said, a promise in her eye.

"I look forward to it," Andy agreed as she blushed. She looked forward to many experiences with Miranda once she was feeling better.

Miranda watched Andy's reaction curiously. A knowing look graced her countenance a moment later as she raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Andy blushed harder and found her food fascinating.

A knock on the door heralded the doctor's arrival. He reviewed with them the results of the surgery, how to treat the incision areas, and when she could be released. Andy felt her heart melt a little more as she listened to Miranda ask about whether she'd be able to fly, what they could do to reduce her discomfort, and when she should see a doctor for a post-op exam. The younger woman made a mental note to contact her physician as soon as she returned to New York.

As if reading her mind Miranda asked, "Is there anyone you wish to call? Family? Friends?"

Andy waved away the cell phone Miranda held toward her while laughing bitterly. "No one." Andy glared down at the blanket and clutched it tightly with her hands. A warm hand covered one. She chose not to look up.

"No one? Surely your family would want to know what happened," Miranda suggested softly.

"We had a falling out right before Paris." Case closed. Andy didn't want to talk about it.

"Friends?" Miranda persisted.

"Same." Andy really didn't want to talk about it. Really. She continued to look down, hoping Miranda would take the hint and drop the subject.

Gentle fingers lifted her chin up. Andy raised her eyes reluctantly. She gasped.

Miranda's eyes held such sadness it made Andy's eyes water. The younger girl's jaw twitched as she tried to hold back her sorrow. Andy was tired, though. She just couldn't withhold the sob that broke through her clenched teeth. Her family, her friends had abandoned her as soon as they had disagreed with her choices.

Arms surrounded her as the first tears escaped. Fingers combed through her hair and rubbed her back in slow, circular patterns. "You're not alone," she heard a throaty voice assure her over and over as she was rocked. Andy allowed her head to rest on Miranda's shoulder as her arms clutched the editor's waist. She cried not just for the loss of her friends, the separation from her family, or even the break-up with Nate, but also for the frailty of her life, the uncertainty of her feelings for Miranda, and her confusion over her job. All in all, she felt pretty fucked up.

But Miranda's arms were sure and her voice soothing. And even as she mourned what she had lost, Andy rejoiced in what—who—she had gained.

Feeling drained but calmer, Andy took some shuddering breaths. She felt the hand on her back removed as Miranda angled to look deeply into her eyes. Miranda swept at the last stray tears with her finger tips as Andy stared at her in amazement. With shaking fingers, Andy touched tear tracks evident on the editor's face. She felt something loosen within her. Miranda had told Andy that she cared about her. Hope filled the younger woman as she dared to believe it to be true.

"I'm sorry," Andy whispered. "I just got overwhelmed, I think." Andy bit her lip as she allowed her fingers to rove lightly over Miranda's cheekbones. She watched in fascination as Miranda's eyelashes fluttered closed in response. Not able to resist, Andy leaned forward as she tightened her hold around Miranda's waist and captured lips salty with tears.

The kiss was cathartic.

Andy fell into the kiss, slaking a thirst she never knew existed. Receptive lips moved against hers, taking control with a fierceness that astounded Andy. In direct contrast to the welcome lingual assault, Miranda held her as if she were the most fragile flower. Andy moaned. The younger woman could feel Miranda trembling as the editor plundered Andy's mouth. Her restless hands roamed Miranda's spine eliciting guttural groans. They enflamed Andy.

"Miranda," Andy whispered ardently when they parted. She felt those delicious lips sucking gently on her chin before sliding to her neck to lick her pulse point."Oh my God," Andy muttered hoarsely. She had never understood the phrase "toes curling." Yet she felt hers do just that. What an incredibly erotic feeling.

"When you are feeling better, Andrea Sachs, I am going to love you so well that you will always know." Miranda whispered in Andy's ear. "You will always know, Andrea, that you are not alone. Will never be alone." Miranda nipped Andy's ear playfully, smiling as she felt the girl shudder. "I'm looking forward to it."

Miranda gently disengaged as Andy leaned back against the pillows. She closed her eyes while attempting to calm down. After an indeterminable amount of time passed, Andy tried to focus as Miranda spoke softly into her phone, but the words merged together like the sounds of a babbling brook.

Andy smiled at the absurd notion that Miranda would ever babble. She dozed with that smile gracing her face.


	7. Chapter 6

**Part 6 **

Miranda finished her phone call and turned back to find Andrea had fallen asleep. Miranda's heart clutched as she allowed her eyes to touch that lovely face. She noted a small smile gracing the somnolent figure. She tired so easily. Miranda shook her head as she worried about Andrea's health. Miranda could not deny her anger over the situation. She had nearly lost her Andrea before she'd been able to express her feelings.

Miranda sat on the edge of the bed, content to watch the younger woman in repose. Gently she stroked Andrea's hair, loving the feel of the silky tresses as they glided over her fingers. To think she had nearly lost the opportunity to love this woman, to touch this woman. Miranda noticed with detachment how her hand shook. She felt the tears forming as she dwelled on the horror of seeing Andrea fall down, writhing in pain just yesterday. It wasn't often that she allowed deep emotion to surface; she was a passionate woman who could be undone by them if she allowed it. However, today she had unlocked the gate and allowed the onslaught of fear and terror, regret and angst to overcome her carefully constructed walls. The walls Andrea had easily surmounted.

She tried to keep her cries quiet, going so far as to place the back of one hand over her mouth as she continued to stroke Andrea's hair with the other. She could hardly see the younger woman now through her curtain of tears, but it didn't matter. She could feel her, and right now that was enough.

As the tears slowed, Miranda's mind began to clear. Andrea was okay. Getting stronger and healthier each day. Miranda would see to that. She would reverse their roles and anticipate Andrea's needs. Care for her. Love her.

Andrea would never feel she had to walk away again. And she would never feel alone.

Sitting in that insufferable chair, Miranda concentrated on the notes Nigel had given her. The editor welcomed the work. She wanted to get as much done as possible before Andrea awoke. Scribbling some comments on the page, Miranda wondered whether Andrea would remain at _Runway_. What would it be like now that she knew how much Miranda cared for her? How would their dynamic change? Would it be manageable? Would it cause problems with her reputation, with her ability to rule others through look and word?

Whatever Andrea decided, Miranda would find a way to make it work. After all, not being able interact with her was unthinkable. If the girl chose to no longer remain at _Runway_, Miranda would take steps to ensure they still saw each other each day.

The captivating girl had changed her at a fundamental level. Miranda felt her priorities changing, and that scared her a bit. Fear was a waste of emotion, though. It served no purpose but to slow Miranda's ability to make necessary decisions. Miranda would not be held back—certainly not by her own negative emotions. She was stronger than that.

Looking up, Miranda noticed dark eyes watching her. Andrea's face was open, affection clear as their eyes locked. Miranda allowed a slow smile to cover her face. She could feel the smile reach her heart and did not attempt to hide Andrea's affect on her. "How are you feeling?" Miranda asked.

"Better. Be right back." Andrea rose from the bed a bit more quickly this time and entered the bathroom.

Miranda wondered how the girl felt about her. Oh, she had felt their rapport and passion through their embraces, but did Andrea want a relationship? Did she understand that Miranda wanted more than just kisses and hugs? Miranda had accepted that she was in love with the younger woman, but she wondered whether Andrea could fully reciprocate her feelings. Miranda believed she had a chance to foster such love. Andrea was a guileless, virtuous person. As long as Miranda was patient, kind, and nurturing, Andrea would return her affections.

Miranda snorted at the irony. As if she'd ever been patient, kind, or nurturing before. She even had trouble utilizing those attributes with her children. She would try, though, and hope Andrea noticed.

Miranda was heartened by Andrea's response. She had even instigated their last kiss. It amazed Miranda how each one was headier, more rapturous than the last. Andrea was like an aphrodisiac. Miranda couldn't wait for the next one. The editor tried not to fixate on what else she wanted to do to the girl. How desperately she wanted to feel that body beneath her, above her, beside her. And she would. She would do whatever it took to convince Andrea to trust her, love her, remain with her. Anything and everything. For the first time in her life, Miranda was willing to use all the means at her disposal for love.

A grand romance was brewing. And this wicked witch was casting the most potent love potion ever devised. It consisted of the eye of Miranda (the loving gaze not the killing glare), Valentino's red fabric swatch, the center of a sunflower, three drops of marsala sauce, and a vial of _Eau de Andrea_ perfume. Add the iron control Miranda no longer needed and the tears shed while allowing fear to overwhelm her, and Miranda knew she had forged a binding connection, for she had drunk of the potion well. Andrea would, too.

Miranda watched the subject of her musings return carefully to her bed. Although Miranda felt the urge to jump up and assist, she controlled herself. If the younger woman needed help, she'd ask. Andrea was independent. No need to crowd her.

A knock at the door heralded a new visitor. Nigel breezed into the room, flowers and acerbic wit evident. "Well, well, you'll do anything to get out of working, won't you, Six?"

Andrea smiled, obviously glad to see him. "Nigel! How are you?"

"Oh, you know." Nigel placed the bouquet on a side table where Andrea could see them. He nodded to Miranda in greeting then returned his attention to Andrea. "How are they treating you in this place?" he asked as he sat in a chair on the other side from where Miranda sat.

As Andrea answered, Miranda rose. "I'll give you your privacy," Miranda explained when they both looked up at her.

"Are you leaving?" Andrea asked, a spark of fear in her eyes.

"No. I'll be back in a little while. I have some phone calls to make." Step one in regaining Andrea's trust involved explaining herself to the extent that the younger woman was placated. It worked. The fear receded. Glancing at Nigel and noting the astounded look on his face, Miranda raised an eyebrow. He quickly glanced away. _Good._

Miranda smiled devilishly and walked toward the bed. Andrea's eyes widened as Miranda bent down and delivered a lingering kiss. "See you soon," she murmured, well pleased by Andrea's unfocused gaze and Nigel's bewildered reaction. The editor sauntered out, making sure to swish her hips.

_Now they'll have something to talk about_, Miranda chuckled. Of course, Miranda knew they would discuss Nigel's career aspirations that she had so cruelly dashed. Miranda wondered whether Andrea would reveal to Nigel that she had quit right before collapsing. The editor supposed she would know soon enough.

Knowing she had delayed this call long enough, Miranda dialed her children. They were with their father. She would have to let them know of her impending divorce. She was certain the children already suspected as much. They had been dropping hints of how little they cared for the man. Miranda grimaced. It made her wonder at her ability to choose a mate. She had a horrible track record. However, Andrea was decidedly different. Certainly against type.

Hearing her ex-husband's voice, Miranda concentrated on what she had to say. "Hello, Charles. I have some news," Miranda opened. She nearly said bad news, but that wasn't really accurate.

"Miranda. Nothing bad, I hope," Charles replied.

"Well, that's a matter of opinion, I'm sure. Stephen and I are getting divorced. I thought you should know before it was announced in the papers." There. It was said. Not so horrible after all.

"Ah. Are you all right?" he asked, hesitation clear in his voice.

"Surprisingly so. However, reporters might badger you once they find out."

"Miranda, don't worry. If reporters call, my answer will be 'No comment,'" Charles reassured.

Miranda paused, touched by what Charles had said. "Thank you," Miranda said quietly. "I need to tell our children. Are they around?"

Charles replied, "The girls are right here." He paused for a few moments before offering, "If you need anything, just call."

Miranda shifted, uncomfortable with his kindness. "I will," Miranda said.

"Mom!"

"Mom!"

"Hello, Caroline, Cassidy. Are you having fun with your father?" Miranda asked, buoyed by the sound of their voices.

"We went to the zoo today," Caroline mentioned.

"We're going to the mall tomorrow," Cassidy added. Miranda blanched. Such dirty places with ill-fitting, cheap clothes and poisonous, fatty foods. She sighed.

"I see. Well, Mummy has some news she needs to share with you." Miranda took a deep breath. "Stephen and I are getting a divorce. I wanted you to hear it from me before the press finds out." Not hearing any response, Miranda wondered what to say next.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Miranda asked.

"Are you sad?" Caroline asked.

That was a good question. Was she? Not really. She was disappointed, hurt, and a bit embarrassed. Not sad, though. Relieved, really. Particularly since she was so enamored with Andrea. A small smile made its way onto Miranda's face.

"No, Caroline. This was a long time coming. I'm just sorry that it may cause some difficulties for the two of you," Miranda answered truthfully.

"It's okay, Mom," Cassidy said. "We never liked him."

"No?" Miranda asked, surprised at Cassidy's blunt remark.

"No," Caroline confirmed.

_Well, then_. That was that. Miranda wasn't sure what to think about their reaction. Hints were one thing. They had heard the fights, felt the frigid silences. Yet, maybe they didn't quite understand. She doubted Stephen would want to interact with them anymore. Did they realize they would never see him again?

"We don't care if we never see him again," Cassidy pronounced firmly.

_Is she reading my mind?_ Miranda was astounded by her children. They were taking this better than she was. And she had resolved her feelings for him long ago. Shortly after she had hired Andrea, in fact.

"Are you flying back tomorrow?" Caroline asked.

"Actually, I may be delayed a day. I'll know tomorrow morning. If I'll be late, I'll call. Either way, I should still be back by the time you are to return." Miranda hoped Andrea would be released tomorrow morning. She couldn't care for her the way she wanted to while in a hospital.

"Why?" Cassidy jumped in.

Miranda wondered whether to tell them. Well, she could be vague with the details.

"Mummy's assistant got sick, and she may not be released from the hospital in time to make our flight." Miranda began to explain.

"Andy's hurt?"

"What happened?"

"How do you know Andrea?" Miranda asked, surprised by their responses.

"She's the one who got us the Harry Potter book," Caroline supplied.

Cassidy added, "We thought you'd fire her for sure when we got her to come upstairs." Cassidy's voice sounded sad. Miranda wondered whether she was sad that Andrea wasn't fired or that they'd gotten the girl in trouble. Better not to ask.

"We felt bad afterward. She's always nice to us," Caroline revealed.

"She told us she was going to Paris and would take good care of you," Cassidy told Miranda.

_Would wonders never cease?_ Andrea had placed the twins under her spell, too. _Incredible._ Perhaps bringing Andrea into their lives more fully would not be quite as disruptive as Miranda had feared. "Well, then, you understand why it's my turn to take care of her."

"What happened?" Caroline asked again, this time more urgently.

"Andrea became very sick and had to have her gall bladder removed," Miranda told them.

"Is that like the appendix?" Cassidy asked.

"No, it's attached to the liver and helps with digestion," the editor explained practicing that highly vaunted virtue of patience she had so much trouble exercising.

"Does that mean she won't be fat anymore?" Cassidy asked.

"Cassidy! She is not fat! She is perfect the way she is. If I ever hear such words coming from you again, you shall be severely punished." So much for patience. Well, Rome wasn't built in a day.

"She didn't mean it," Caroline jumped in. "Andy's pretty. Cass just meant that she isn't as skinny as your other assistants." Caroline was always trying to extricate her sister from trouble.

"Nevertheless, Andrea is very important to me. I will not tolerate disparaging remarks," Miranda stated emphatically.

"Okay."

"Sorry, Mom."

Right. Time to get them back on a more positive note. "Mummy has gifts for you. I miss you both very much."

"Miss you, too," they both replied.

"I'll talk to you soon," Miranda said.

"Tell Andy to get better," Caroline said.

"Yeah," Cassidy endorsed.

"I will. Love you. Bye-bye." Miranda sat brooding a bit. Her children were becoming rather judgmental about looks. The editor knew that was her fault. She'd need to deal with that before it became a larger problem.

Releasing those thoughts for the time being, Miranda decided to return to Andrea's room. She'd given Andrea and Nigel enough time to talk. She was sure that Andrea must be getting tired by now. The white-haired fashion icon wanted to get the younger woman walking around at least once more before she ate her evening meal. Then, Andrea would rest.


	8. Chapter 7

**Part 7**

As soon as Miranda left the room, Nigel became the Grand Inquisitor. "What was that all about?" he demanded, eyebrows high on his forehead.

"I, um, it just kind of developed," Andy said, not knowing how to explain.

"It just kind of developed?" Nigel parroted, incredulous. "Come on, Andy! I thought you hated her—"

"No, Nigel," Andy interrupted. "I've never hated her. If anything, I thought she hated me."

"Obviously not," Nigel muttered.

"Yeah," Andy agreed. She couldn't disguise just how thrilled she was over that development.

Nigel looked at her thoughtfully, hand supporting his chin. "She mentioned earlier that if you weren't released in time to fly back with us tomorrow, she'd stay with you."

Andy gasped. "She did? Oh, my God. That's, that's—"

"Love," Nigel finished quietly. "You've accomplished the impossible, Andy. She's in love with you. I've watched her through several relationships, and I've never seen her like this." Nigel shook in head. "You're a wonder, kid. Absolutely incredible."

The younger woman stared at her friend speechless. Could it be true? Miranda loved her? Andy sucked on her lower lip while she contemplated his words. Dare she hope?

Most importantly, how did she feel about Miranda? The editor had become the center of her world, but was that only due to her position or was it more? Judging by how much she enjoyed the way Miranda looked at her and had been looking at her for months, by how much she enjoyed being in the woman's company even if they remained silent the entire time, not to mention her body's reactions, her heartbreak with leaving the woman's employ just yesterday, and her desire to know everything about the older woman—yeah, she felt pretty strongly about her. Andy had turned her back on her friends, family, and even her love interest for Miranda. She had used Christian when she'd felt spurned by Miranda (not her finest moment) and then had promptly left him when she had thought Miranda's livelihood was in danger.

Andy had been choosing Miranda for a long time.

Now, after feeling Miranda's desire and listening to her soft-spoken promises, Andy couldn't help but believe what Nigel was telling her. Nor could she deny her feelings any longer.

"Turns out I'm in love with her. I love Miranda Priestly. And she loves me." Andy stared at Nigel, surprised if not completely blown away by this state of affairs. "Holy shit."

"Andy, you know she's married and has two children, right?" Nigel cautioned.

"She's getting a divorce," Andy answered distractedly.

"Did she say that to get you into bed, because—" Nigel started angrily.

Andy flushed, not comfortable talking to Nigel about Miranda and intimacy. "No! I walked in on her yesterday, and she was a mess because Stephen had just announced he wanted a divorce. He waited until she was in Paris to do it, the lowlife. What a bastard. So, no." A pregnant pause. "And we haven't." Andy felt heat suffuse her cheeks. She could hardly talk to herself about this never mind with anyone else! Everything was so fragile and insubstantial that Andy was afraid to touch the subject—even with her own thoughts.

"Oh. Well, that's good. That's good. Aren't you involved with someone, anyway? And what about Christian Thompson? Didn't you see him last night?" Nigel continued grilling, better than any ace detective could have.

"Nate and I broke up. He's probably all moved out by now. And Christian is not a person I care to see again."

"So you did see him?" Nigel persisted.

"Yes. That's how I learned about Irv trying to take _Runway_ away from Miranda. I left him to find Miranda, but she made it extremely hard to warn her. Turns out she already knew. That's why she'd arranged for your job to be given to Jacqueline Follet. Irv had planned to have her take Miranda's place." Andy stopped, allowing Nigel to digest all the information.

"I didn't understand what was going on at the time. I would have warned you, otherwise." Andy sighed. "As it was, I thought Miranda had betrayed you just because she could, and I quit right before I collapsed."

"You quit?" Nigel shrieked. "And she's not angry?" Nigel placed a hand on his heart. "I don't think I can take many more revelations. What have you done to that woman? She is not the Miranda I know."

"I don't quite understand it, either. Maybe she understands why I left. We haven't really discussed it, yet. At any rate, she offered me my job back. I just don't know whether that would be a good idea, particularly if we are going to be together. If that's what she wants. I, I don't even know what she is thinking for us." Andy looked at Nigel as insecurity seeped in. "I mean, why would she want me? I can't imagine she'd want a relationship with me. I can't have a fling. It would hurt too much once she tired of me." Andy looked down, despondent at the thoughts running rampant.

Clearly she was not on the same level as The Miranda Priestly. The fashion editor was well-known, beautiful, sophisticated, rich, good God, the list was endless. And here she was, little Andy Sachs, twenty-five years old, at the beginning of her career—hell, not even since she was not writing yet for any publications—not to mention her relative inexperience with relationships, hobnobbing, or anything having to do with Miranda's world unless fulfilling the role of assistant. The learning curve was daunting. Then there were Miranda's two daughters. They seemed a bit less monstrous lately, but still, what did she know about prepubescent teens?

Feeling a hand cover hers, Andy looked into understanding eyes. "All I can tell you is this: that woman has changed. It is clear you have everything to do with those changes. If you really do love her, give her the benefit of the doubt. And tell her what you want, what you need. Remember Andy, in a relationship it's important to be equals. Maybe it would be best not to work for her directly." Nigel smiled. "I can't wait to see what happens." Nigel clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. "Let the fireworks begin."

Andy paled at Nigel's words. "Please don't tell anyone what I've told you."

Nigel waved a hand at her. "Don't worry. Just so you know, Miranda told me she wants to sit down with me once we return. I believe she intends to make amends for this whole James Holt fiasco." Nigel patted Andy's leg. "Just another example of how she's changed."

Miranda entered the room, appearing preoccupied. Her eyes lit up when they rested on Andy. The younger girl felt energy course through her. _Miranda's better than any caffeine drink. _Nigel stood up and said his good-byes quickly. Soon Miranda and Andy were left alone.

"Up for another walk?" Miranda asked.

"Yes," Andy agreed as she got to her feet. Miranda intertwined their hands instead of placing an arm around her waist. Andy felt the loss keenly. She felt safe in Miranda's embrace.

"Something wrong?" Miranda asked.

"No, I, no. I'm just being silly," Andy said. Leave it to her to take the simplest action and interpret it as a rejection.

"Andrea, I very much want you to be released tomorrow morning so we can get home. They won't let you leave if you cannot walk by yourself," Miranda stated gently.

_Oh. Of course._ Andy nodded her understanding. If Andy was going to be with Miranda, she'd need to stop thinking the worst of every action. She'd also have to thicken her skin, knowing how cutting the older woman's remarks could be. She could do that. She would do that.

Yet Miranda seemed to be very accommodating. She was even explaining herself. Andy had quite a bit to think about. Miranda seemed to be changing more and more by the minute. For her.

"Are you feeling all right?" Miranda asked.

Evidently, she'd been thinking too long. Usually, Miranda didn't like for Andy to talk too much, if at all. Another change.

Andy hazarded a glance and saw the worried look in her blue eyes. "I'm okay. Just thinking."

"About?" Miranda inquired.

"Us. You. I just, I guess I find it hard to believe that you lo-, that you l-like me," Andy revealed with a bit of a stutter. Phew. That was hard to get out.

Miranda stopped their hallway progression and turned to face Andy fully. "I don't just like you," Miranda stated, distaste plainly stressed on the word "like." The older woman stared into Andy's eyes, determination glinting through her cobalt ones. "I am in love with you, Andrea. I want you in my life. Even if you had not come so close to death, I would have acted on these feelings at some point. After all," Miranda smiled, "I've been romancing you for months, not that you noticed. Or do you suppose I shower every assistant with couture, flowers, and meals?" Miranda arched an eyebrow and smirked while she waited for Andy to respond.

_This woman is fearless_. Andy gawked at Miranda, not knowing what to respond to first. "I didn't dare believe—I hoped, but—I," Andy sputtered. She took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm in love with you. But, Miranda, how can you love me? I'm just a—," Andy shook her head in despair, waving a hand over her form. She had so far to go to become Miranda's equal.

"None of that, Andrea," Miranda said sternly. "You are beautiful, intelligent, driven; in some ways you are so much more than what I could ever be. Your kindness astounds me. You've taken every situation thrown at you and handled each with a smile. I love you for that. And for many other reasons. If anyone needs to play catch up, I believe it is I who will have the tougher time becoming your equal."

Andy stared at Miranda, flabbergasted. How could Miranda believe that? She was perfect! Of course, she could be rather cruel, but that was at work. She needed to be that way to keep her edge, to keep others from capitalizing on perceived weaknesses. Besides, she hadn't treated Andy that way in months. "Why don't we agree to disagree for now," Andy suggested softly with a smile.

Miranda nodded with a small smile before the stern look returned. "For now."

They made their way back to the room and after making a pit-stop in the bathroom Andy settled into bed.

A nurse came in with more medicine and a new fluid bag, then the evening meal was delivered. Andy wondered whether Miranda had eaten at all today. Miranda had been at the hospital most of the day and at a function when she had left for a little while. At the office, meal times were regulated so that Miranda would not neglect herself with such mundane necessities. Who was making sure Miranda did not skip meals now?

Andy looked at her companion suspiciously and said, "Have you eaten at all today?"

"I was just thinking I should find some edible food," Miranda replied, not quite answering.

"I'll take that as a no," Andy said while glowering. "You're no help to me if you get sick, Miranda. Go eat. Please."

Andy knew just how stubborn Miranda could be, but honestly, what was she thinking? She needed to take care of herself. "Better yet, you don't need to stay here. I'm getting tired. I'll finish eating and go to sleep."

"Andrea, it's barely six o'clock. I'll get something to eat and return. Will that suffice?"

"Yes. Thank you." Andy would take any compromise she could get. Andy smiled fully at the older woman, wanting to express how happy she was for her company, her love, her willingness to accommodate such absurd ideas as taking care of herself.

Miranda's eyes softened. She leaned forward and kissed Andy chastely. "I'll be back later. Go to sleep if you tire." At Andy's nod she straightened up and left.

Andy sat next to Miranda on the plane feeling a sense of déjà vu even as she acknowledged that so much had happened between airplane rides. Miranda sat next to her with a proprietary hand on Andy's lap. Under the blanket, of course. But it was there. Andy was feeling undeniably tired. And sore. She had four incisions covered with surgical tape. They were itchy and achy. When she moved the wrong way, the tape pulled on the scabbing. Andy just wanted to sleep. That was hard, though, because Miranda was right next to her, and Andy felt the compulsion to offer the older woman help with her work. She wasn't totally crazy, though, so she said nothing.

Ultimately, she felt pretty useless.

Miranda began to tell Andy about the upcoming issue preparations. Andy tried really hard to listen, but it wasn't like she was taking notes, and Miranda's voice was warm and low, and Andy loved that voice directed at her and chose to close her eyes just to better concentrate on that lovely voice as it flowed over her and surrounded her and oh, how she hoped Miranda wouldn't feel insulted that she'd closed her eyes and…

Several hours later Andy stirred. It felt as if she was pulling herself out of darkness so thick she couldn't tell where to find the light. She focused on the sounds around her, letting them pull her back into awareness. Finally, she was able to open her eyes. She gazed, still slightly unfocused, into loving blue ones. Blinking very slowly, Andy continued to stare, mesmerized. "Miranda," she managed to whisper.

"Mmmmm. How are you feeling? Are you hungry, Andrea?" Miranda asked while leaning toward her slightly. Andy felt well-loved by Miranda's attitude. Pleasure infused her, making her stronger.

"I am a bit hungry. I'm feeling better after that nap, and oh, Miranda! I'm so sorry I fell asleep while you were talking—"

"Shhh." Miranda placed a gentle finger across Andy's lips. Andy quivered. Miranda smirked. "I wanted you to fall asleep. You need your rest. I have plans for you, great plans, but they cannot occur until you are well."

"Uh, okay." Andy's mind short-circuited a bit as she read on the editor's face the type of plans Miranda had in mind.

Miranda called a flight attendant over and arranged for Andy's food. She had to admit, she liked having Miranda take care of her. It made her feel special. After all, how many people received Miranda's sole attention? How often did Miranda take pains to care for another person? Except for her children, Andy knew of no one. She had never witnessed it for Stephen.

Yet, Andy realized, Miranda had been taking care of her for months. As she had pointed out last night, the older woman had been romancing her. Taking care of her. Providing for her. Causing her to smile. It served to reassure Andy that Miranda really did care, that she loved her. As miraculous as that seemed.

The younger woman faced a bigger surprise once at her apartment. Miranda had Roy transport them both to Andy's home and then dismissed him after all the luggage had been brought in. Including Miranda's luggage. Miranda had already surprised her by having all of Andy's suitcases packed and waiting within her suite. Now this.

Miranda walked through the apartment as if she'd been there a thousand times before. Andy looked around with new eyes. Nate was obviously gone. The apartment appeared half empty and neglected, which it was, but surprisingly clean.

Crossing to the refrigerator, Andy hoped for the best and opened it. She gasped. It was fully stocked. "How?"

Miranda wrapped strong arms around her waist and leaned her chin on Andy's shoulder. "I hope you don't mind. I had my housekeeper come by. I didn't think you'd be well enough to do it yourself."

Andy turned in the woman's arms and hugged her tightly. "Thank you." The younger reveled in the full-body embrace. Miranda's form fit within her own curves comfortably. Enticingly. She heard Miranda moan, the sensual timbre evoking a similar sound from Andy. What this woman did to her.

Not able to resist, Andy pulled back enough to bestow little kisses down the elegant column of Miranda's neck. She ran her tongue back up the path she had just traveled, loving the slightly salty taste. Then she worked her way downward once more with larger, opened-mouthed kisses. She felt Miranda sag into her as the older woman pulled Andy's body closer. Andy felt magical fingers traveling her spine, causing her to shiver with need. Andy switched sides of the neck, repeating her actions while listening to the soft mewing sounds Miranda made. Andy felt as if she were on fire. She wanted to kiss every inch.

Even as she felt her body responding to the white-haired vixen, Andy felt weariness beginning to weigh her down. She tried to ignore it, wanting so badly to feel Miranda's body moving with hers. Andy wanted to make love to this woman desperately, to demonstrate just how much she cherished this gift—Miranda's love. Turning her head, she kissed the woman ardently, tasting hunger and nourishment.

Andy groaned her appreciation as those wicked fingers slipped under her shirt and slid up the younger woman's back soothingly. Andy felt a change in their kisses; they became slower, less passionate but just as loving. Their breathing began to even out as Andy hung onto Miranda's hips. Andy allowed Miranda to deliver smaller, demure kisses, understanding that although Miranda wanted Andy, she was unwilling to allow their passions to overcome their good sense. Once again, Miranda was taking care of Andy.

Miranda pulled back slowly and gazed into Andy's eyes. The younger woman smiled. Miranda smiled back.

"Why don't you get settled while I make us something to eat?" Miranda suggested. Andy nodded and regretfully stepped back from Miranda's arms. Miranda smiled encouragingly, not turning back to the refrigerator until Andy walked past the doorway.

Andy spent the rest of the day unpacking, resting, eating, and talking with Miranda. The editor remained close by, offering support without becoming overbearing. When Andy became restless by her feelings of physical weakness, Miranda cajoled her to lie down with her, citing how busy the upcoming week would be without her best assistant next to her and how she needed as much rest as possible to prepare. It was a weak excuse, but Andy understood Miranda was trying to make Andy rest without demanding it by pretending that Miranda actually needed the respite. Such actions were endearing. Miranda also prepared their meals. Surprisingly, she was a very accomplished cook. Even better, Andy could enjoy these meals without suffering the consequences later.

When it began to get late, Andy began to fret. She didn't want Miranda to leave, but she didn't know how to ask the older woman to stay. Andy sat on the couch with her laptop pretending to read while Miranda reviewed notes covering the last few days of Paris Fashion Week. She had no idea how to broach the subject.

"Andrea, you must be tired. Why don't you get ready for bed?" Miranda suggested without looking up.

_Uh, okay._ She could do that. Andy had no idea what to think. Entering her bedroom, Andy retrieved her only pair of silk pajamas from her dresser and moved into the bathroom to change. Normally she'd just change in the bedroom, but a large window separated it from the kitchen, and it'd be just her luck for Miranda to walk in there to refresh her drink. It wasn't that Andy was a prude or didn't want Miranda to see her without her clothes on. It was just that Andy was still moving slowly, not to mention the incisions made her feel awkward and decidedly unattractive.

Finishing her ablutions, Andy exited the bathroom and wondered what to do next. Would Miranda leave now? Would it be a good idea for Andy to ask her to stay? Andy was afraid Miranda would decline, and she would feel humiliated. Regardless, Andy thought that taking the chance to keep Miranda with her throughout the night would be worth feeling uncomfortable and appearing needy. _Buck up, trooper_, Andy told herself. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Carpe diem._ Andy chuckled at her internal dialogue and reentered the living room.

Seeing Andy, the editor took off her glasses and raked her eyes over the younger woman. _Ahhh. Just like old times_. When the world was different—flatter. Two-dimensional. If Andy did decide to not work for Miranda any longer, she'd have to find a way to see the older woman as often as possible. She didn't want to lose for even a day this feeling of being reviewed and approved each time they were in the same room. It felt palpable. She loved it.

"Would you object to my staying here tonight?" Miranda asked. "The girls are still with their father, and I would rather not leave you," she confessed.

"No objection here," Andy said quickly. Feeling shy, the younger woman added, "I didn't want you to go." Andy's heart sped up when Miranda smiled fully. Even though Miranda had smiled several times lately, the effect was still breathtaking. Andy didn't think she'd ever get used to it.

Miranda rose and stopped in front of Andy to run elegant fingers over a pink cheek. Her eyes reflected warmth and affection. Andy drank it in, loving how expressive Miranda's face could be, particularly her eyes. Perhaps they had always been, but Andy did not know to look. She did now, though.

"You took quite a chance romancing me all that time. Why did you allow yourself to be so vulnerable? If someone had noticed, or if I had mentioned it to the wrong person, you could have faced some serious problems." Andy found the chances Miranda had taken to be unacceptable.

Miranda scoffed. "If anyone noticed, they didn't dare say anything. I made sure to keep it just ambiguous enough that no one could accuse me of acting improperly. As for why I took such a chance," Miranda ran her hand down Andy's neck to rest on her shoulder, "how could I not? I needed to see you smile; I needed to spend time with you. Those reasons overruled any qualms regarding accusations of impropriety."

Andy melted into a puddle of Awwww. Miranda was an old-fashioned romantic.

"If I could have gotten away with it, I would have given you more, done more. However, even I know the limits imposed by the workplace." Miranda smirked. "Now that you know my feelings, though, I am no longer constrained."

Andy felt her eyebrows rise in surprise.

A decidedly wicked smile raised the hair on Andy's arms. "Do not believe for one instant that I will no longer indulge my compulsion to give you beautiful things. More than ever, I need to see your smile. I intend to do whatever I can to elicit them. And I can do quite a bit."

_Amen to that. _The gleam in Miranda's eyes guaranteed that she would prove truth to her words. Miranda knew just what to say to make Andy go just a little bit crazy. She always had. If she were stronger, Andy would fling Miranda back onto the couch and ravish her until she was worn out from Andy's lovemaking. Then she'd do it again. And again.

Wayward thoughts were summarily pushed aside for the reality of responding to a demanding kiss. Parting her lips, Andy permitted Miranda's tongue to enter her mouth, moaning as desire coursed through her. It had been hours since they'd last kissed, and Andy couldn't help wondering how she had lived her life without this all-encompassing feeling of satisfaction Miranda ignited. After their first shared kiss, how had Andy lived without another one for nearly a week? How would she be able to function without receiving them daily? She hoped she wouldn't have to find out.

The editor pulled away reluctantly. "I'm going to change," she whispered. "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

Flopping onto the couch—as much as she could flop with stitches across her abdomen—Andy, tried to lessen her aroused state by reminding herself just how ugly her entire front-side looked with orange iodine smeared across most of it, as well as white surgical tape covering four closed incisions including over her bellybutton. Miranda had not seen her in this state, nor did Andy want her to. Andy wanted Miranda to appreciate her form, to react favorably. She wanted to find desire and lust in those blue orbs when Andy's shirt was removed. She was relatively sure that would not happen right now. So, they would not be making love tonight, no matter how desperately Andy wished to explore that body and give it the tribute it deserved. She sighed in defeat. _Not tonight._

After turning out the lights and double-checking that the front door was secure, Andy wandered into the bedroom. She wondered which side Miranda normally slept on. Andy shrugged and slipped under the covers on the left side. Soon she heard Miranda enter the room. The older woman turned off the light and joined Andy in the bed. Andy lay on her back since it still hurt to recline on her side. Andy felt frustration rise within her as she realized she would not be able to cuddle up to the older woman.

Andy released such thoughts as she felt arms and legs surround her, pulling her closer into a blanket of warmth. Andy turned her head. Glittering eyes watched her closely as one hand gently stroked the nearer arm from shoulder to wrist over and over. While sensations sparked from Miranda's touch, the older woman opened her heart to Andy.

"Andrea, I realize that you may not quite believe that I love you. How could you when you have always been my employee and always treated as such? Even my inadequate attempts to let you know I cared for you through the gifts could not have instilled much confidence in you." Miranda sighed. "Then, with the events that occurred in Paris, including your health scare, it all seemed so very foolish."

Miranda's hand began to stroke Andy's leg. The younger woman tried not to hyperventilate.

"If you had died, I would have been left with these feelings. These feelings, Andrea, that need to be expressed and demonstrated." Miranda glared. "So, you see, Andrea, you simply cannot leave me. I must be given the opportunity," Miranda's voice broke, "to love you."

No longer able to remain silent, Andy spoke. "You will, Miranda. I only ask that you allow me to show you, too. I do love you. The thought of not seeing you every day," Andy shook her head. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to do it if I no longer work for you."

"Maybe you won't have to. I know I'd rather not go without your smile," Miranda revealed.

"Hey. That's my sickeningly sprightly smile to you." Andy remembered that day: the first time she had received a bouquet from Miranda. She'd thought it was a cast-off, not worthy of Miranda's desk. Andy smiled, now understanding.

Miranda chuckled before leaning in to kiss Andy.

Her hand, which had been roaming deliciously over Andy's shoulders, arms, and legs, wandered to a breast. Andy shivered in delight. Miranda kept the kisses slow and deep as she tweaked the nipple through the silk. The older woman, who had kept a leg wrapped around Andy's hip, began to press rhythmically against Andy's center with her knee. Andy groaned as she jerked forward. Miranda moved her hand in a placating manner over Andy's side and leg before resting it on the elastic waistband. She moved her lips to Andy's ear and began lavishing it with erotic licks before filling it completely with her tongue.

"Oh, my God, Miranda!" Andy squeaked.

After several minutes of gentle knee pressure against her center, licks to her ear, and stroking beneath her waistband, Andy was sure she was going to burst into flames.

"I don't want you to overextend yourself, Andrea. I'm going to make love to you. I want you to feel how precious you are to me. How much I treasure you. Let me love you, Andrea. Give yourself to me," Miranda whispered seductively.

As if there was any question. "Yessss," Andy hissed.

Miranda's hand found its way to Andy's embarrassingly wet center. The older woman hummed her approval as she gently slid her hand through to find Andy's opening. Dipping two fingers just past the opening, she twirled them within the copious wetness then removed them to touch the bundle of nerves quivering above. Andy thrust her hips as Miranda's fingers barely grazed the area.

"Shhh," Miranda murmured. "Easy. I have you, love." She continued to move her fingers over Andy's clitoris in a nonsensical, maddening pattern. It felt so wonderful, and Andy could do nothing but accept the loving caresses as they drove her toward a shattering climax. The older woman continued to kiss Andy languidly as Miranda's knee pressed against her opening. Miranda's fingers danced across her clitoris while her other hand stroked her arm soothingly. Andy gyrated slowly in time, feeling like they were slow dancing. And then she was there, calling out Miranda's name in ecstasy. She felt the tremors overload her system, holding her in timeless suspension before her body relaxed. Andy vaguely heard Miranda's compliments on how beautiful Andy was, how wonderful she felt, how much she loved hearing Andy while in the throes of passion. Tender kisses rained over her face as Miranda's arms held her close.

Andy felt completely loved, protected, and satiated. Her last thoughts before allowing sleep to overwhelm her consisted of ways to help Miranda feel as spectacular as she now felt. The younger woman couldn't wait to make love to Miranda. She was determined to get better as soon as possible, knowing Miranda would not indulge in any vigorous activity until it was clear Andy would not harm herself in the process.

It would be a long couple of weeks, but Andy would make it up to both of them.


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Miranda closed the Book and rose from her chair. Ruefully, she placed a hand on her lower back and stretched carefully. Too many hours reviewing the mock-up had left her with tired eyes and a stiff body. Miranda sniffed. She hated to be reminded of the fact that she was getting older. Luckily, she had someone in her life who made her feel young. The woman smiled.

After turning off the light, Miranda padded silently through the house and up the stairs to the master bedroom. She didn't bother to put the lights on. Instead, she entered the master bathroom and began to ready for sleep. After taking care of her skin and teeth, Miranda slipped on a slinky, midnight-blue negligee and headed to bed. Easing under the comfortable sheets and warm duvet, Miranda sighed her contentment. There was nothing better than slipping into bed after a long, productive day.

_Except this._ Miranda felt toned arms pull her forward into a curvy body and sighed. _Yes, this was much better._ The editor had quickly found that she could not sleep without Andrea by her side. The first night they'd shared a bed in Andrea's apartment, Miranda had made love to the girl. She had thought that she was prepared for such an event; however, that erroneous supposition was summarily blasted out of the stratosphere once she had touched the precious creature. As Andrea had moved beneath her, Miranda had realized she would never give her lover up.

Real life had intruded, of course. Miranda had left Andrea the next afternoon for the townhouse, her girls, and work. That night she had tossed and turned, finally calling Andrea in the middle of the night just to hear her voice. She had felt infinitely better once Andrea had admitted to being unable to sleep, too. Not that Miranda had given voice to any such plight.

Regardless, Miranda was unwilling to remain separated from the young woman after that night. Particularly since they had agreed that Andrea should work elsewhere. If she couldn't see her lover during the day, she sure as hell was going to hold her throughout the night. Since the twins lived with her during the week, Miranda could not spend her nights at Andrea's apartment. Fortunately, Andrea had agreed not only to stay at the townhouse overnight but also to convalesce there during the day. Miranda made every effort to return home at lunch as well as in time for dinner. It was the first time Miranda wanted to make such an effort to spend time with someone besides her girls.

Over the last few weeks they had discussed why and how their relationship would succeed. The love was present, evident to all who dared to look. More than that, though, they respected and cherished each other. Their goal was simple: to incorporate their lives so completely that both would always feel the other's presence even when not together. They compromised quite a bit. Well, Miranda did. Andrea was very adaptable, whereas Miranda had trouble yielding. She did, though, for Andrea.

The girls were surprisingly supportive. They had helped Miranda to develop her new-found skill of patience by asking endless questions about why Andrea was in their home and what type of relationship she and Andrea shared. After they had discussed the new living arrangements and what had precipitated the move, her girls had welcomed Andrea's presence with open arms. For that, the editor was extremely grateful.

The first morning they had sat at the breakfast nook, the girls' eyes had progressively widened as they had watched Andrea eat. Miranda chuckled. The younger woman hadn't even been eating all that much—probably a consequence of the horrible condition she had suffered when eating before the operation. Nevertheless, she had eaten toast, eggs, fruit, and bacon with her coffee. Instead of discussing their reactions, Miranda had calmly begun to eat the same foods.

She wouldn't change a single curve on that glorious body. It constantly seduced her into acting differently. Miranda wondered whether Andrea had noticed just how much Miranda had changed. All due to the sweet girl's influence.

Every couple of days Miranda made love to Andrea. She simply could not contain herself. After all, the girl was lying right next to her exuding sex appeal. All the same, Miranda controlled her actions so that Andrea would not hurt herself while she healed. Although it had been very satisfying to love Andrea this way, Miranda had been looking forward to when she'd be able to cover the brunette with her body, explore every inch with her lips, and drive her over the edge with more intense lovemaking.

Miranda had the feeling that her wishes would soon be granted.

Andrea crushed her lips against Miranda's as her body hovered enticingly. Miranda couldn't help the groan that ripped from her throat. She had waited so long to feel that full weight on top of her. She needed to feel it. Had yearned for it.

Miranda pulled Andrea forward, hissing at the magnificent feeling of Andrea's form nestling into her. The older woman ran her fingers through luscious hair, holding that talented mouth in place. She felt Andrea undulating against her and gasped as need roared through her. Hands slipped under the edge of her nightgown to tease her as they stroked up her thighs.

Miranda felt her eyelids slam closed as sensation blinded her. Soon her nightwear was discarded, but she felt only heat in the cool room. Lips mapped her upper body determinedly as fingers made their way between their bodies. Oh, how she had dreamt of this moment. Miranda tipped her head back, overwhelmed by Andrea. Her Andrea. "Andrea," Miranda uttered with a reverent tone. How she loved this woman.

She felt fingers once again traveling over her thighs, their destination unmistakable. Miranda placed her hands on top of Andrea's to stop their journey. She met confused eyes to whisper, "I need to see you, Andrea. Please, let me." After a frozen moment of indecision, the younger woman's gaze melted into adoration before sharpening once more into desire. She sat up to remove her clothes. Miranda was quick to help her.

Soon their bodies were entwined deliciously, skin slapping together naughtily as fingers drove into her forcefully. Miranda loved it. She had never acted this way in the bedroom, never felt the compulsion to lose control so completely. Yet Andrea lifted her to new heights in every aspect of her life.

Lips, so devious, so luscious, covered her breast and sucked strongly in time with the younger woman's thrusts. Miranda could not contain her responses. Groaning and panting in time to the pace Andrea masterfully set, the older woman could only hold on as her world exploded into a million pieces.

Miranda rested as she held Andrea to her tightly. Tears fell freely while her mind jumped through a deluge of hopes and fears. So much had occurred in a relatively short time. Miranda could hardly believe she was loved by someone as marvelous and sensitive as Andrea.

Hunger stirred her into action. She would no longer hold back. Flipping them suddenly, Miranda smirked at Andrea's squeak and attacked breasts that begged for her mouth. Flicking her tongue in a staccato rhythm, Miranda set out to convince Andrea that they were well-matched in this aspect of their relationship. She had been restraining herself while Andrea healed. No longer.

The impassioned woman slowly moved her lips over Andrea's torso, listening to the younger woman's gasps and moans with delight. When she neared the incision areas, she felt her lover's body tensing. Miranda ran soothing fingers up and down the brunette's sides as she murmured, "I love you, Andrea. All of you. Every little bit. Let me love you. Let me. Let me."

Andrea exhaled loudly as she writhed and arched her back. Taking this as assent, Miranda kissed the scars tenderly before continuing her downward trek. She tasted desire strongly as she neared her goal. Miranda had wanted to gorge herself with this woman's essence so badly. She had waited patiently, wanting Andrea to enjoy it as much as she knew she would while feasting on such a divine creature. Licking her lips with anticipation, Miranda settled between toned legs.

How lovely. She was so ready, so wanton. Miranda hardly knew where to begin. Recognizing that she did not have to accomplish everything right at that moment, Miranda flattened her tongue and delivered a long, slow lick from Andrea's moist opening to the sensitive nerve center. Andrea screamed. Miranda grinned.

Then she got down to the business of loving Andrea with more focused intent than she had ever directed toward any other action, not even toward running _Runway_. Not wanting it to end too soon, Miranda sucked on Andy's labia leisurely as she pinned the squirming woman down with both hands across her thrusting pelvis. Miranda growled as a flood of liquid urged her to suck from Andrea's opening as vulgarly as if she were slurping soup. She couldn't help it. This girl drove her wild. She needed to satiate herself with this addictive elixir.

"Oh my God, Miranda. Oh, my God. I, I…Miranda. Oh my…" Andrea muttered as her body arched and shook in time with Miranda's ministrations.

Encouraged, Miranda hardened her tongue and began thrusting just inside Andrea's opening, making sure to press on the rim with each exit. Andrea shrieked as her body began to convulse. Miranda quickened her strokes, pushing in as deeply as she could, loving how Andrea's body gripped at her as if to keep her tongue inside.

"Miranda, what did you, how did you," Andrea said brokenly. She shook her head as Miranda looked up at her. "That was incredible."

Smiling broadly, Miranda playfully promised, "This is only the beginning, Andrea. You may try to hold onto the Earth, but I intend to catapult you through the stratosphere as often as possible. That is a promise I will keep." The editor chuckled at Andrea's shocked expression.

Oh, yes. She had changed. How could she not? Lowering her face, Miranda chuckled again as she heard Andrea mutter once more, "Oh my God." Slender fingers entangled themselves within her white locks as she concentrated on doing exactly what she had just promised.

What Andrea might not realize was Miranda intended to reach this goal inside and outside of the bedroom. And she would do it. She would prove again and again just how much she cherished her Andrea. She'd been given this chance after nearly losing her. Now that she had felt Andrea's love, Miranda would never let her go. Nor would she ever leave Andrea. They were together. They would never feel alone again.

Miranda felt rather smug as she drove her lover to higher peaks. Her plan to seduce the younger woman had worked. It didn't matter that neither of them had quite realized what was happening until well after she had begun to bestow gifts on Andrea. It didn't matter that both had been flailing uselessly within failing relationships at the time. It didn't matter that Miranda had hurt Nigel or that Andrea had left Miranda. They'd both made amends for those events, anyway.

No. What mattered was that they had found each other. And they had both vowed to hold on tightly. Nearly as tightly as Andrea currently held onto Miranda's head or as Miranda held onto Andrea's hips. Miranda smiled wolfishly as she swooped her tongue over a quivering clitoris.

Yes. She might have changed, but she was infinitely better for it. As Andrea bucked up at Miranda forcefully, the editor thought of her catchphrase that communicated so much finality. Because it summed up their situation perfectly. They loved each other, and people would simply have to accept it.

That's all.

The End.


End file.
